Post by wwjbcd on May 31, 2016 21:42:18 GMT
In life, we make friends and enemies, and that's pretty much par for the course. The friends are easy to handle; they're your friends! Your enemies, however, you've got to be extra careful how you deal with them. You just never know what action you take against them will result in down the road. But in professional wrestling, you've got to be wary of your "friends", but you can simply kick the shit out of your enemies.
This is the story of the time Kurt Newman got the shit kicked out of him.
Now, please bear with me: thanks to the power of special effects garnered with monies procured from favours owed, let our scene take you forward to the fantastical year of 2056! Hover cars teeter dangerously on the road, as the technology STILL hasn't been perfected yet, and it'll be another 50 years at least before it does, so don't hold your breath. Oh, anyway, also, high-rises taller than ever before tower over the landscape, essentially blocking out the Sun and most of the clouds. Oh, did I say "clouds"? I meant horribly corrosive smog. Good job, Mankind, and I don't mean Mick.
But deep deep down below, away from the Sun, away from the smog, away from to tops of impossibly colossal buildings, a decrepit old gym with partially-boarded up windows and a front door that doesn't quite close properly, not to mention it needs a new paint job and a visit from some health and safety inspectors is long overdue- anyway, it's not the outside that matters, as they say!
Within these most hallowed of halls, where many of the greats in pro wrestling got their start - 'Sweatshop Free' Redd Whitenblu, 'Roidless Muscle Mass' Max Mega, Coat-hanger Mary, and everyone's favourite 'Council-Housed' Baz Masher - what was I even going on about again? Oh right. Still functioning as a halfway house for wayward kids and discarded pets, its curator sits in a comfy old dusty chair with a spring poking out the back of it, while children aged 8-12 sit in a circle on the splintery gymnasium floor.
But what's this? Beneath those wrinkles and elderly fat and completely out of style clothes seems to reveal a familiar face of sorts!
Could this be?
No...
But maybe!
"...and that's when I unloaded a nail gun into 'Terribly Obnoxious' Terry Obbo!"
The kids gasp in horror and amazement, then cheer as if they just heard the end of Winnie the Pooh or something.
The old man nods in approval at their youthful wonderment.
One of the younger kids tugs on the old man's sleeve. He looks down to acknowledge them.
"Can you teww us again about dat best fight you did?"
The old man laughs in that hoarse way, complete with a hacking cough, as if he's one chortle away from the grave.
"Which one, kid? I got plenty!"
"The one'n Japan!"
Another kid's eyes light up.
"Yeah! That one! That one's the best!"
Then suddenly, the gym is echoing with kiddy voices in agreement.
"All right, all right, all right, settle down, you maniacs! Sett- hey! I said sit down, Jimmy, or I'll tell you of the time I got hanged by Derek Wellings!"
Jimmy gasps and quickly plops down on the spot. The rest of the kids calm down and look up at the old man whose identity we JUST CAN'T QUITE FIGURE OUT YET.
The old man clears his throat, stroking at his chin as he reminisces.
"Now... I remember it as if it were yesterday: Yours Truly just finished tossing that Nurse Kinsley over the top rope to win the invitational battle royal and take home the New Japan Fighting Championship's Global Championship!"
"So you were the champion of the entire globe?!"
Johnn- I mean, the old man's eyes narrow and he makes chewing sounds like old men do. Maybe there's a bit of food left inside his hot old mouth, or maybe he's wrestling with his dentures, the only wrestling he does these days!
"Angie, didn't we already go through this the last time? And the time after that? And the time after that? And the time after that?!"
"But but but, 'global' means-"
"I know what 'global means, Angie! I've known what 'global' meant before your mom was born! Now, can I continue! I'm gettin' sleepy over here!"
Angie throws up her hands; she really thinks she's right.
"So there I was: I came into the NJFC as a guest, right, and I won it all! Then I got confronted by 'Iceman' Konrad Raab, since he was the guy who was next in line for a shot at the belt. We had a 'good-guy' moment, honour and respect and all that jazz, when all of a sudden, we got Pearl Harbored from behind by some former EWC nut named Kurt Newman! He had been gone from wrestling for quite some time, and before he left, he was one of the 'good guys' too. He says he did it to make an impact, to get noticed, well, wouldn't ya know it, kids, but he got noticed all right! The sonova- the nasty bad guy insisted it was just business, but Yours Truly knew better. And not too long after that, just before our first confrontation, what does he do? He joins The Wrestling Kingdom: a group of the baddest of the bad guys! Then we went on to have a go at it, but we went to hard at each other that we both got counted out!"
The kids whine in disappointment of that ending.
"But what about the next time you guys fought?"
The old man chuckles in a sinister fashion.
"Oh, that time... well, lemme make one thing... PERFECTLY CLEAR about that time, kids: what I'm about to tell you ain't for the squeamish. So don't tell your folks I'm telling you all this..."
But sadly, we are mysteriously pulled back to the present, where our scene comes to an end.
This is the story of the time Kurt Newman got the shit kicked out of him.
Now, please bear with me: thanks to the power of special effects garnered with monies procured from favours owed, let our scene take you forward to the fantastical year of 2056! Hover cars teeter dangerously on the road, as the technology STILL hasn't been perfected yet, and it'll be another 50 years at least before it does, so don't hold your breath. Oh, anyway, also, high-rises taller than ever before tower over the landscape, essentially blocking out the Sun and most of the clouds. Oh, did I say "clouds"? I meant horribly corrosive smog. Good job, Mankind, and I don't mean Mick.
But deep deep down below, away from the Sun, away from the smog, away from to tops of impossibly colossal buildings, a decrepit old gym with partially-boarded up windows and a front door that doesn't quite close properly, not to mention it needs a new paint job and a visit from some health and safety inspectors is long overdue- anyway, it's not the outside that matters, as they say!
Within these most hallowed of halls, where many of the greats in pro wrestling got their start - 'Sweatshop Free' Redd Whitenblu, 'Roidless Muscle Mass' Max Mega, Coat-hanger Mary, and everyone's favourite 'Council-Housed' Baz Masher - what was I even going on about again? Oh right. Still functioning as a halfway house for wayward kids and discarded pets, its curator sits in a comfy old dusty chair with a spring poking out the back of it, while children aged 8-12 sit in a circle on the splintery gymnasium floor.
But what's this? Beneath those wrinkles and elderly fat and completely out of style clothes seems to reveal a familiar face of sorts!
Could this be?
No...
But maybe!
"...and that's when I unloaded a nail gun into 'Terribly Obnoxious' Terry Obbo!"
The kids gasp in horror and amazement, then cheer as if they just heard the end of Winnie the Pooh or something.
The old man nods in approval at their youthful wonderment.
One of the younger kids tugs on the old man's sleeve. He looks down to acknowledge them.
"Can you teww us again about dat best fight you did?"
The old man laughs in that hoarse way, complete with a hacking cough, as if he's one chortle away from the grave.
"Which one, kid? I got plenty!"
"The one'n Japan!"
Another kid's eyes light up.
"Yeah! That one! That one's the best!"
Then suddenly, the gym is echoing with kiddy voices in agreement.
"All right, all right, all right, settle down, you maniacs! Sett- hey! I said sit down, Jimmy, or I'll tell you of the time I got hanged by Derek Wellings!"
Jimmy gasps and quickly plops down on the spot. The rest of the kids calm down and look up at the old man whose identity we JUST CAN'T QUITE FIGURE OUT YET.
The old man clears his throat, stroking at his chin as he reminisces.
"Now... I remember it as if it were yesterday: Yours Truly just finished tossing that Nurse Kinsley over the top rope to win the invitational battle royal and take home the New Japan Fighting Championship's Global Championship!"
"So you were the champion of the entire globe?!"
Johnn- I mean, the old man's eyes narrow and he makes chewing sounds like old men do. Maybe there's a bit of food left inside his hot old mouth, or maybe he's wrestling with his dentures, the only wrestling he does these days!
"Angie, didn't we already go through this the last time? And the time after that? And the time after that? And the time after that?!"
"But but but, 'global' means-"
"I know what 'global means, Angie! I've known what 'global' meant before your mom was born! Now, can I continue! I'm gettin' sleepy over here!"
Angie throws up her hands; she really thinks she's right.
"So there I was: I came into the NJFC as a guest, right, and I won it all! Then I got confronted by 'Iceman' Konrad Raab, since he was the guy who was next in line for a shot at the belt. We had a 'good-guy' moment, honour and respect and all that jazz, when all of a sudden, we got Pearl Harbored from behind by some former EWC nut named Kurt Newman! He had been gone from wrestling for quite some time, and before he left, he was one of the 'good guys' too. He says he did it to make an impact, to get noticed, well, wouldn't ya know it, kids, but he got noticed all right! The sonova- the nasty bad guy insisted it was just business, but Yours Truly knew better. And not too long after that, just before our first confrontation, what does he do? He joins The Wrestling Kingdom: a group of the baddest of the bad guys! Then we went on to have a go at it, but we went to hard at each other that we both got counted out!"
The kids whine in disappointment of that ending.
"But what about the next time you guys fought?"
The old man chuckles in a sinister fashion.
"Oh, that time... well, lemme make one thing... PERFECTLY CLEAR about that time, kids: what I'm about to tell you ain't for the squeamish. So don't tell your folks I'm telling you all this..."
But sadly, we are mysteriously pulled back to the present, where our scene comes to an end.
